Hogwarts Reads Dudley Dursley's Sassy Gay Friend
by SideshowStarlet
Summary: Umbridge comes across a copy of the fic "Dudley Dursley's Sassy Gay Friend" and, believing it contains valuable information about the BWL, forces Hogwarts to listen to a reading of it. School-wide snarking and an unusual coming-out ensue.
1. Chapter 1

**What luck! Two fanfics for the price of one! **

**An "Umbridge Reads fic" idea you've never seen before. Umbridge gets her hands on a copy of "Dudley Dursley's Sassy Gay Friend" (a fic written by me which contains oneshots of a young, flamboyantly gay Harry Potter forming a connection with his cousin Dudley) and forces the entire school to listen to a reading of it. **

**School-wide snarking and an unusual coming-out ensue. **

"Attention, students and staff," the high-pitched, breathy voice of Professor Umbridge rang out through the school one Friday evening. "By order of Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four and a Half, all students and faculty must report to the Great Hall tomorrow for the reading of what promises to be a _very _informative document. Failure to attend this reading, scheduled to begin at 7:00 _sharp, _will result in expulsion for students and immediate termination for staff. This includes the Headmaster!" Umbridge's voice grew shriller as she attempted to assert her authority over the school.

In the Gryffindor common room, the students stayed up late speculating on what the document could be and why they all needed to hear it being read to them.

"Maybe it's a Bible," suggested Lavender Brown.

"A Bible? Umbridge?" snorted Ron. "Yeah right. It's more likely to be a guide to Satanism. We'll probably have to sit through some emotionally-stunted weirdo's account about the time she to transfigured a guitar into a Pentagram or something."

Everybody stared at Ron for a very, very long time. "What'd I say?" asked Ron, noticing the strange looks on everyone's faces. As one, everybody in the Gryffindor Common Room, be they friends or foes, from the brawny jerkoff Cormac McLaggen to the tiny, clueless second year Dennis Creevey, shook their heads in unison, well-used to Ron's propensity for saying the wrong thing. Honestly, he was almost as bad as "Loony" Lovegood sometimes.

Hermione sighed. "It's more likely to be some Ministry document or other. Some ridiculous new law that Umbridge is especially pleased with, so she's making us all attend some dumb meeting for the purpose of rubbing it in our faces."

Unfortunately for all the students who stayed up late making various predictions about the unusual meeting they would be forced to attend (or, in Hermione's case, getting a head start on weekend homework), Umbridge's awful voice rang out once again, this time at 6:30 in the morning. "Attention, Hogwarts students and staff," the toad-like woman called out. "This is just to remind you that your required meeting is scheduled 30 minutes from now, at 7:00 in the Great Hall. Remember, attendance is _mandatory!_" She finished, an annoyingly cheerful lilt to her voice.

The Hogwart-ians groaned, moaned, kvetched, and complained at their rude awakening. Most of them had assumed that the High Inquisitor had meant for the meeting to be at 7:00 _PM, _not AM, but they clearly had underestimated the toadlike teacher's propensity for sadism.

The school reluctantly roused itself from slumber in order to attend what was sure to be a highly unpleasant meeting. Harry, by this point, was wondering if it was really worth the trouble of following all of these stupid new educational decrees to stay at Hogwarts. But being expelled would mean he couldn't lead the DA, so he dragged himself out of bed with the feeling that this could bring nothing good.

Most of the students were slumped over their respective house tables, still in their pajamas. Harry's hair was more disheveled than usual, and Ron was still wearing his too-short maroon pajamas. At the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy was sitting primly, not a hair out of place and dressed in an immaculately pressed, heavily-starched version of the Hogwarts uniform. Over at the teacher's table, Dumbledore, like Draco Malfoy, was perfectly groomed, despite it being early Saturday morning.

The Headmaster was bedecked in an eye-catching ensemble that featured colors of all four houses: a green hat with gold trim, a blue shirt, bronze tie, and a long scarlet cloak with silver trim, black pants, and bright yellow boots. A part of Harry wanted to wolf-whistle and shout out a compliment about the Headmaster's outfit. Harry shook his head, wondering where that random thought had come from. However, Harry did not have time to dwell upon any strange thoughts.

Umbridge chose that moment to stand up, a strange tome held in her plump, bejeweled hands. "Attention, boys and girls," she began in her high-pitched, breathy voice. The Great Hall immediately fell silent, not because they had any respect for Umbridge's authority, but because they were all curious as to why the High Inquisitor had called them here today. It must be big news, as Umbridge had just started speaking without making her customary throat-clearing _"Hem-hem!" _

Umbridge continued speaking with a wide grin on her toadlike face. "Recently, the Ministry uncovered a strange document entitled 'Dudley Dursley's Sassy Gay Friend.'"

Harry choked as he recognized the name of his cousin, then repressed a snigger as he imagined his bullying, bigoted boxing champion of a cousin having a sassy gay friend. As images of Dudley and some pretty-boy in a sparkly tank-top and tight pants going over the outfit to be worn in Dudley's next boxing match danced in his head, Umbridge continued speaking.

"Many of us felt that the name sounded familiar, but we couldn't place it. It wasn't until later, when we were sorting through transcripts of criminal trials from this summer that we realized when we had heard the name. Dudley Dursley is Harry Potter's cousin, a boy who was _supposedly _attacked by Dementors this summer, only to be rescued by Potter, which, according to his testimony, necessitated the use of underage magic. Young Mr. Dursley was not available to give his testimony on his cousin's flagrant disregard for the law, but, fortunately for certain law-abiding citizens, we have found a written testimony of the life of Dudley Dursley. And so, without further ado, let's get to the truth!"

Harry's heart sank. He could already tell that this book was nothing but lies, and, judging by Umbridge's gleeful expression, this meant bad things ahead for him. His stomach twisted as Umbridge began to read.

"**Ever since he could remember, Harry had been confined to the cupboard under the stairs rather than having a proper bedroom," **Umbridge began in a bright and cheerful voice. There were gasps from Harry's friends and sniggers from his enemies. Dumbledore looked uncomfortable, while McGonagall looked furious. Snape was paying absolutely no attention to the proceedings and was very obviously reading a Potions text under the table. Umbridge noticed that Potter looked like he wanted to crawl under a rock. She resisted the urge to clap her hands with glee. She was only one sentence in, and things were already going splendidly. However, her heart sank when she read what came next.

"**Anyone who actually took a look a good look around the "room" would realize that the boy was not taking this slight as badly as his aunt and uncle would have hoped. It was rather cozy on the whole, a testament to his years of stealing his aunt's issues of 'Better Homes and Gardens' and 'Martha Stewart Living.'" **

"Both excellent publications!" Dumbledore said approvingly. "Well done, Harry!"

"Sir, you do realize that this never actually happened, right?" Harry reminded the Headmaster.

"Yes, yes, of course," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "But even so…"

"**The cupboard also seemed to be larger on the inside than it would appear to be from the outside. A careful observer might question why anyone would build a window, complete with mini blinds and attractive navy blue curtains, in a cupboard under the stairs. The smarter ones would ask why this window could not be seen from the outside of the house. And how on Earth, these hypothetical observers would wonder, could one fit a king-sized bed, an extensive wardrobe, a vanity table, a sewing machine, a floor-to-ceiling bookcase full of magazines, an indoor pool, a 32-inch plasma screen, and a beanbag chair in one tiny cupboard under the stairs?" **

"Magic, duh," responded the entire student body.

Harry froze. He remembered a time when he was younger when he actually could mess around with his cupboard and make it look like a large, spacious, beautiful room in a mansion rather than a dusty old cupboard under the stairs. That was back when he actually did do quirky things like read his aunt's magazines and obsess over fashion and interior decorating.

It was around the time he started school that he realized that these hobbies did not endear him to the other boys, particularly Dudley. So, he tried to be "normal." He stopped caring about his own appearance and how his cupboard looked. He started playing sports instead of sewing. Despite being small and skinny for his age, he was very fast and energetic. However, despite his athleticism, he was still picked last for teams because nobody wanted Dudley to think they liked him.

His foray into normalcy had done him no good. Worse of all, by the time he had come to his senses and gotten sick of it, he could not harness his power and make things beautiful the way he once had been able to. Maybe it was a bit of magic that faded with age.

"**Of course, the only visitor to Harry's cupboard was Harry's cousin Dudley, who was well-used to his cousin's quirks. Dudley knew his parents well enough to realize that, as much as they loved him, they despised any mention of Harry or abnormality, plus he valued his cousin's friendship (and 24-hour access to the indoor pool) too much to tell his mum or dad anything about how much Harry was enjoying the room that was meant as a punishment for... being Harry." **

"I don't know what's more horrifying about that," said Fred.

"The idea of being confined to a cupboard under the stairs with Dudley being your only visitor…" George continued.

"Or the idea of seeing Dudley in his swim-trunks…" Fred finished.

"Maybe the parents know all about how wonderful Harry's cupboard is and send Dudley over to punish Harry for being Harry," Luna Lovegood theorized.

"That was actually pretty intelligent," Marietta Edgecombe said in shocked surprise. The rest of the Ravenclaw table looked equally stunned as they gazed in disbelief at the genius among them.

"**There had been a time when Dudley behaved just like his parents," **

"He still does!" said Harry in outrage.

"…**treating Harry badly and blaming him for everything that went wrong." **

"He still does that! Last summer, he blamed me for setting soul-sucking wraiths on him!"

"**But all that changed when they were about eight…" **

"No it didn't!"

"…**and Dudley realized that underneath the small, skinny body and flashy clothes (hand-me-downs of Dudley that Harry had altered beyond all recognition) was one of the, Hell, he was _the _smartest person Dudley knew." **

"It must have been a low bar," Malfoy and Snape said at the exact same time.

The current and former Slytherin's eyes met across the Great Hall.

"Professor Snape," said Draco in a hushed voice.

"Mr. Malfoy," Snape responded in a low baritone.

"Professor…" Draco swallowed a lump in his throat. "Will you be my Godfather?"

"Of course," Snape replied magnanimously. "Everybody already thinks I am, anyway."

"Thanks, Uncle Sev! Is it alright if I call you Uncle Sev?"

"Never in a million years," Snape said in a deadly whisper that carried across the hall.

Even Umbridge trembled, her wide, toadlike smile faltering. Only Dumbledore remained unaffected and was contentedly sucking on a lemon drop.

Umbridge concealed her moment of sheer terror by diving right back into the strange book.

"**It had all started one chilly morning during Christmas break when eight year-old Dudley was going about his usual routine." **

"Nice pancake breakfast," Ginny contributed.

"A good B.M." said one of the twins.

"Another breakfast," said the other twin.

"A light snack" added Ron.

"A third breakfast for good luck," said Dean, catching on.

"And out the door for some healthful fresh air before lunch," finished Hermione.

"You guys didn't leave him any time to watch TV," Harry pointed out.

"Couldn't he just watch TV while he eats?" asked Seamus.

"I _suppose_," sighed Harry. "If you really wanted to trust Dudley with multi-tasking."

"**He had the small skinny body of Marvin Hutchinson pinned against a wall and was kicking the nerdy boy in his privates, something he had seen on one of his dad's movies. It seemed to be working, as Hutchinson was slumped over and groaning in pain." **

"I have found that that technique works 87.5% of the time. Really, it's a sloppy, amateurish ploy to gain easy money without putting forth any effort," stated Vincent Crabbe, who sounded surprisingly intelligent.

Nobody in Slytherin seemed particularly surprised by this, which raised suspicions that the dumb muscle thing was just an act he pulled outside the Common Room. Everybody started to wonder about Goyle as well, but judging by the way he was attempting to pick his nose and scratch his head at the same time (and failing miserably), everyone decided to not get ahead of themselves.

"'**I know you got 20 pounds birthday money,' Dudley growled, sounding as menacing as a six year old boy could be expected to sound. 'So give it up!'" **

"I say, the author of this work is not very good, is she?" mused Umbridge. She stated in the beginning that Dudley was eight; now she's having him sound as menacing as a six year old could be expected to sound!"

"I believe that's an example of figurative language," said Luna. "Dudley isn't actually a six year-old, but he sounds whiny and un-intimidating like a six year-old would. It's OK if you didn't catch it the first time, though. It is a common effect of nargles entering a feeble mind."

"Right," said Umbridge, not sure whether to take that as reassurance or as an insult. Then she remembered that Luna "Loony" Lovegood was crazy, so there was no reason to listen to her, anyway.

"**Hutchinson reached a shaking hand into his pocket, about to pull out a crisp 20 pound note that he had put in their only this morning. Dudley grinned in triumph, but was soon interrupted by a familiar voice." **

"His mother must be coming to put a stop to this," said Pomona Sprout confidently.

"'**I think someone else needs to lose 20 pounds. What, what, WHAT are you doing?' Harry suddenly appeared behind Dudley, his hands on his hips." **

"Just like a strange, sassy superhero," Ginny sighed.

Harry didn't even notice. Cho glared at the redhead.

"**He was wearing an old black long-sleeved shirt of Dudley's which the pansy had carefully altered to make it fit his girlish frame. Now, it appeared to be too short for his cousin; the sleeves didn't quite reach Harry's wrists and the shirttail just barely reached Harry's hips. He was also wearing a pair of Dudley's faded old blue jeans that he had altered so they clung to his skinny legs and dyed so they looked new. His freaky, fruity cousin had topped off the whole ensemble with a sparkly orange scarf that rain or shine, he never left the house without." **

Not even Pansy Parkinson could think of a way to criticize that spectacular outfit. Dumbledore was taking notes on a napkin, hoping to order an outfit exactly like that when this highly illuminating meeting was through.

"**Harry technically wasn't allowed out of the house wearing that scarf, but Harry was a freak, what do you expect?" **

"He is NOT a freak," shouted all of Harry's friends, and several acquaintances.

"Oh, yes, he is," said Malfoy.

"Quiet, Draco, you little shit," said an unfamiliar voice.

"Ten points from Gryffindor!" shouted Snape, having a good idea of which table the voice had come from, even though he actually heard it come from the ceiling.

"**Dudley made a mental note to tell his mother about Harry's freakish outfit when he got home from the shopping spree he would go on with Hutchinson's birthday money. He would enjoy snickering at Harry as his mum yelled at his moronic cousin." **

"Nobody likes a tattle-tale, Dinky Duddy-dums," said Ginny.

"Whoa, Dudley makes mental notes?" Harry asked. "Doesn't that involve, you know, _thinking?" _

"'**He's got money. I want it,' Dudley replied slowly, as if speaking to a buffoon." **

Goyle nodded in agreement. That seemed like pretty solid reasoning to _him. _

"'**And I want your thick golden waves on my head instead of this mess here.' Harry flipped his hair, which remained untidy despite liberal application of any kind of mousse and hairspray." **

"Potter used _hairspray?" _the entire Slytherin table asked in shock.

"_Hem-hem," _coughed Umbridge, who was getting tired of the constant interruptions.

"**He knew the only way his hair would ever stay down would be to grow it out long, but every two weeks, his aunt dragged him to the barber shop to get a haircut. She would die before she lived in the same house as any long-haired male." **

"Really?" Malfoy cackled evilly, rubbing his hands together. He was already forming plans for introducing Potter's Muggle aunt to his long-haired aristocratic father.

"Yes, really," said Snape irritably. "She used to have the most annoying crush on me when we were children. It was what inspired me to grow my hair long in the first place, even though it does nothing but get in the way when I am brewing potions. Since everybody's actually listening to me for a change, I might as well give some useful advice: When a suitor attaches themselves to you like a highly talkative leech and refuses to let go until one of you dies, it's a smart idea to occasionally listen as they prattle on and on about themselves. It may be the key to their undoing," Snape finished in an appropriately menacing voice.

"You knew my aunt?" Harry asked in shock.

Snape sighed. "Do try to keep up, Potter."

"'**That doesn't mean I put my foot in your sausage factory.'"**

**Dudley's face wrinkled in confusion at the phrase "Sausage factory." **

"That's nothing new," Harry said. "Dudley's face wrinkles in confusion at the phrases 'What is your name?' and 'What day is today?'"

"**What did Harry's favorite breakfast have to do with anything? And Dudley knew it was Harry's favorite breakfast, because every time his mum cooked sausages, Harry would loudly proclaim them to be 'the best thing in the history of ever' and make a big deal out of eating his. Instead of cutting it into bite-sized pieces, Harry would gently pick his up and slowly bring it to his lips and stuff as much of it into his mouth as he could." **

"Classy, Potter," snorted Draco.

"You know you'd enjoy seeing that!" Colin was quick to defend his idol.

"Sausages _are _a delicious part of a nutritious breakfast," said Dumbledore.

"It's been so _long _since I've had a sausage," moaned Umbridge despite herself.

Now it was the High Inquisitor's turn to be the subject of a roomful of shocked stares. With a quick clearing of the throat, Umbridge attempted to turn the attention of the Great Hall back to the story.

"**He wouldn't bite it, though. He would just suck on it before pulling it out." **

"Potter, will your talents ever stop emerging?" asked Pansy, fighting back a snort. "I think you've found your true calling."

"He could give you lessons!" Dennis innocently defended the fifteen year-old that he and his brother hero-worshipped.

"Yeah!" said Ron, cottoning on. "He could lead a seminar. Then, by the time he's through, the Slytherin Quidditch team can finally get some girl players!"

"Detention, Weasley" said McGonagall and Snape at the same time.

"**He would repeat this process until dad threatened to lock him in his cupboard for a month. Harry would then give mum and dad this stupid look that he clearly intended to convey innocent surprise. This would only raise dad's blood pressure further, and he would slap Harry around the head." **

"These people are barabarians!" said Hermione in shock.

"**Harry would gag on the sausage still in his mouth, rub his head where dad had hit him and mumble something random like 'I like it rough.'" **

"Stay strong, Harry," Colon whispered encouragingly. "Stay strong."

**Whenever Harry opened his mouth, unless it was to stuff in a sausage, weird comments were sure to come out. **

"Sounds like Ron," snorted Ginny.

"**Anyway, back to the matter at hand." **

"My memory must be failing me in my old age," said Dumbledore. "But could someone please remind me of what exactly the matter at hand is?"

"Harry's cousin Dudley was about to beat up a kid and take his money. Suddenly, Harry stepped in, and he's gonna stop his great bully of a cousin from picking on smaller kids," the diminutive Dennis Creevey promptly filled him in.

"Thank you, Mr. Creevey," said Dumbledore, inclining his head. "Ten points to Gryffindor."

**"He's a dorky piece of piss. And a nerd!" Dudley's eight year-old mouth shot out the worst insults that he could think of. "And you are too!" he shot at Harry. **

"That's absurd!" barked Snape. Snape noticed that everybody was looking at him now. "Albus makes me watch movies aimed at Muggle adolescents in order to relate to my students better," he explained. "I have it on good authority that one has to be intelligent in order to be a nerd."

Everyone released the breath they didn't realize they were holding as status quo was restored.

"**Dudley was a second away from grabbing Harry and throttling him, but his selectively shrewd mind made the connection that he currently had his hands on someone who Dudley knew had money in his pocket. It was highly unlikely that his dweeby cousin had any cash on him. So, he quickly decided against letting go of the dork with money to beat up a dork without money. There would be other opportunities." **

Crabbe and Goyle nodded in understanding. They recognized good bullying technique when they heard it.

"'**So we beat him up and take his money? You can't just beat the shit out of everybody who annoys you! If I did that, _Jersey Shore_ would start getting a lot more interesting.'" **

None of the Muggleborns present could argue with this. Then again, almost anything would make Jersey Shore more interesting.

"**Dudley had no idea what Harry was going on about. He desperately tried to stay afloat in the confusing argument. 'Not _we_! Me! I'm gonna beat him up and take his money! You're gonna stay out of my way and let me go shopping!'"**

"'**Oooh! You're going shopping? Please say it's for new clothes!' Harry squealed." **

"Potter wants to buy new clothes?" Malfoy asked incredulously.

"Be sure to take Weasley with you, Potter!" shrieked Pansy Parkinson, before collapsing into a fit of giggles.

**"No! Now get out of my face" roared Dudley, attempting to turn his attention back to Marvin Hutchinson.**

**"Then what are you shopping for?" Harry asked curiously.**

**"I need some soda. Or maybe some juice. Or a slushie... It's none of your business! Now beat it!"**

**"You know, I have a beverage that you might be interested in." **

"What's the beverage, Harry?" Colin Creevey asked eagerly.

"Firewhiskey?" asked George Weasley.

"Butterbeer?" Dennis Creevey guessed.

"Pumpkin juice?" Ron theorized.

"A Cherry Coke Blended Float," said Luna Lovegood with absolute certainty from the Ravenclaw table.

**Dudley raised an eyebrow curiously. "Is it that David Hasselhoff stuff that you were talking about last night?"**

**"Huh?"**

"'**Last night, you said that David Hasselhoff was good to the very last drop.'" **

"What the Devil?" asked Snape, his voice sounding different for some reason.

You could have heard a pin drop in the Great Hall. Everybody turned around to stare, open-mouthed, at Harry.

Harry shrugged. "I was a big Hasselhoff fan when I was a kid. So what?" he said.

**"Um, no, I was talking about... something else." **

Harry feverently hoped that nobody at Hogwarts found out exactly _what _he was talking about. He'd never be able to live it down.

**Maybe Harry should refrain from talking like that around Dudley. After all, the television in his cousin's room had parental controls on it. Since his aunt and uncle had no idea that Harry had somehow managed to acquire a television for his cupboard (and never seemed to hear the noise through the walls no matter how loudly he had the telly on), Harry was free to watch anything he wanted. **

"Little sneak," mumbled Umbridge. I shall certainly be sending an informative owl to these clueless Muggle relatives. They need to know the things Potter is hiding and the horrible influence he is on their angelic son."

As Harry had a good time imagining how a pair of people as determinedly Muggle as Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon would react to an owl from the self-important High Inquisitor, everybody else reflected that Umbridge was the only person in the room who would call Dudley Dursley "angelic."

**"This beverage is, if possible, even better. Wouldn't you like a delicious water beverage made just to your personal taste?"**

"'**Yes,' Dudley admitted. That did sound good right about now, after all this work." **

"Yes, he's certainly exerting himself," Snape snarked, before the small amount of interest he had managed to develop in the story completely evaporated, and he buried his greasy nose back in his Potions text.

**"Then make it MiO! All you need to do is FTS."**

**"FTS?" repeated Dudley, puzzled.**

"**Harry pulled a 20 ounce bottle of water and a small, round, silver container out of nowhere. 'Flip it,' Harry flipped the lid off of the silver container, 'Tip it,' Harry tipped the silver container upside down over the bottle of water, causing a small amount of red sugar-water to come out, 'Sip it,' Harry sipped the from the water bottle, grinned, and offered it to Dudley, who swallowed half the drink in one gulp." **

Several sniggers were heard throughout the Great Hall, predominately at the Gryffindor table. That did sound like Dudley Dursley.

"'**That is good,' Dudley admitted."**

"'**Now, what do you say we forget about this mess and go get some more?'"**

"'**Sounds good to me,' said Dudley. 'This is getting to be too much work.'" **

Harry snorted. Dudley _would_ say that.

"**They walked off together, leaving a relieved Marvin Hutchinson to question his sanity." **

"As well he should," said Harry. "Wearing striped pants with a polka-dotted shirt. I mean, honestly, who does that?"

The stares from all around the Great Hall told Harry that he had said that out loud.

"Um, Harry?" said Hermione. "There's nothing in the story about Marvin's outfit. Did this actually happen?"

"Something sort of like this happened when we were kids, but in the end, Dudley just beat both of us up, took Marvin's money and my MiO, and then ran off. Don't believe everything you read."

"**The cousins hadn't gone very far before Dudley stopped in his tracks. 'Harry?' he said. 'We don't have any money.'**

"**Harry gasped and slapped his forehead. 'I totally forgot about that! C'mon you stupid bitch,' Harry said in a friendly kind of way. 'That's what parents are for.'" **

Draco Malfoy felt his respect for Potter, at least the Potter portrayed in this story, rise just a tiny bit.

"**Dudley, shocked that he didn't think of this before, hurried home to ask his mum for money. Harry lagged behind, knowing that his appearance would not cause Dudley's mother to be particularly generous." **

"And who could blame the poor woman?" Umbridge asked herself. "Putting up with such a fashion hoodlum for a nephew! Why, I wouldn't be surprised if he stole all those sparkly scarves and fancy hair products!"

**He grinned fondly after his cousin, shaking his head. "He's a stupid bitch," Harry said warmly to nobody in particular. **

"He really is," said Harry. That part, at least, had been true.

**A/N: Awww… poor Harry's repressed his sassy gay side. Don't worry, though. I'll use the reading to help bring it out. Also, I was thinking of including mild slash in this story, but I'm not sure what pairing. I was thinking Harry/Draco or Harry/Ron, but then I like Ron/Hermione. If you have any suggestions or have a male character you'd like to see Harry pair up with, tell me in your review. I hope you enjoyed the story so far. Please note that I will still be updating my "Dudley Dursley's Sassy Gay Friend" fic along with this one. **

**If you enjoy fanfics which parody other fanfics, check out my new fic "Bedtime Story: Tyler Durden Reads My Immortal," and laugh as you never have before. **


	2. Chapter 2

Umbridge tried to hide her relief as she finished chapter one. The contents of the story were certainly unexpected. She had been hoping for evidence that Harry Potter was a depraved homosexual who had come up with the whole Dementor story in a crazy attempt to seduce his cousin. This would finally cause the expulsion she had spent the summer trying, and failing, to bring about.

The tone of the story so far was cheerful and whimsical, but Potter wouldn't be able to hide his true evil nature for very long, of that Umbridge was certain. She certainly hoped so. Already this book was turning out to be more than she bargained for. She had always thought that Muggle adage about not being able to judge a book by its cover was a load of poppycock. You were a fool if you couldn't tell the gist of what the story was about by reading the title and glancing at the cover illustration, or at least by reading through the contents of the back cover.

Still, this book about Potter, like Potter himself, was doing all he could to conquer her. She had intended to do the smart thing and read ahead in the book in order to ensure it presented the truth that the Ministry wanted to present… preferably casting Umbridge herself in as favorable a light as possible.

However, this book was having none of her attempts to act as any self-respecting propagator of propaganda would when faced with a strange fanfiction. It refused to be read unless certain conditions were met. It could only be read at a certain time (which was the reason for the early Saturday morning meeting), under certain circumstances (in this case, the entirety of Hogwarts had to be gathered in the Great Hall), and only for as long as the book deemed necessary. Once the tale had deemed it necessary to be told, Umbridge found herself put on a spell to read the words exactly as they were presented in the book and for as long as the book wanted her to.

After Umbridge had finished reading the first chapter, the book shut with a loud snap, nearly crushing Umbridge's fingers. It looked like the book had enough of being read for now. Trying to appear as if she had shut the book of her own accord, she stretched a fake smile across her plump face and said, "Well, that's the end of chapter one. We'll continue on with chapter two…" Umbridge hesitated slightly, not knowing when the uncontrollable work of craziness would allow her to read chapter two. She hid her uncertainty by finishing with a pompous, "when I say we will!" before hurrying to her seat to tuck into a large breakfast.

Most of the Hogwarts population was glad that Umbridge had stopped reading and dreaded more of these early morning meetings. Hermione, for instance, was silently ruing the consequences of this unexpected bit of Ministrial pointlessness had for her carefully thought-out study schedule, which left little room for mass snarkings, spontaneous musical numbers, or learning shenanigans. Worse, she was worried about the toll that this reading would take on her friend. Harry was already spread thin with his OWL coursework, the Ministry's attempts to portray him as an insane liar, and the increased responsibilities of forming some sort of undercover club where students can practice their defensive magic. Now, this seemingly amusing story was being used as more propaganda against Harry. Sure, it seemed to be amusing and lighthearted, but Hermione knew the use Umbridge was hoping to put it to. She was using the tale in order to turn everyone against Harry and Dumbledore. The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth. Now, instead of hearing an amusing story about events that never actually happened- or happened in a parallel universe or could have happened if things had been a little different- she was reminded of the propaganda that the Nazis used for Muggle schoolchildren to convince them that Jews were not to be trusted.

She remembered her days in Madame Fullbright's Advanced History course when she had first learned about the Nazis and the Holocaust. Her parents had to sign a special permission form just for the school to allow the teacher to show certain materials in her lesson plans. It had made Hermione feel very grown-up indeed to be allowed to discuss such an adult topic in an adult setting.

Though mature for her age and determined to face the sensitive topic like a rational, thinking adult, Hermione had learned things that frankly terrified her. However, despite the death toll, the brutal treatment of the prisoners, and the ruthlessness of Hitler's armies, what scared her the most was the incredible amount of anti-Semetic propaganda that newspaper reporters, politicians, even the writers of children's books, had released upon the population.

The children's books had been the scariest of all. Hermione found something incredibly creepy about the lyrical rhymes and the brightly colored illustrations being put together to tell children younger than herself that the Jews were awful people and needed to be sent away from honest working folk.

Every time Umbridge opened her mouth to let say something Pro-Ministry or Anti-Potter in her cheerful, breathy voice that she clearly imagined was child-friendly, Hermione saw flashes of that book and heard those deceptively lyrical rhymes. Most appropriately, the book was called Trust No Fox. Well, Hermione herself was by no means an Anti-Semitic, but she herself intended to trust no fox. Or toad, as the case may be.

_(A/N: __Trust No Fox__ is an actual children's book filled with Nazi Propoganda and Anti-Semitism. It can be read online at this URL: http : / www. calvin. edu/ academic/ cas/ gpa /fuchs. Htm). Be warned- offensive content. __**However, the link is to an academic site, not an Anti-Semitic site**__). _

For his part, Harry tried to put the reading out of his mind, but in the days that passed, he found himself having a strange week, indeed. He found himself paying more attention to his clothes and his hair. He knew from Sirius and what he had overheard of Uncle Vernon telling Dudley that this kind of thing happened to boys as they got older and discovered girls. But to this extent? Harry never wanted to leave his dorm nowadays until his hair and outfit- yes, he called his clothes an 'outfit' now- were perfect.

And speaking of girls… Harry found himself losing interest in Cho. Sure, she was a great girl and all, but he didn't seem to crush on her like he used to. He wasn't tongue-tied, dry-mouthed, or sweaty when she was around. She was just… another person.

Harry groaned one afternoon after Potions as he heard the announcement summoning them to the Great Hall for another reading of "Dudley Dursley's Sassy Gay Friend." As if he didn't have enough on his mind…

He entered the Great Hall with everybody else and sat between Ron and Hermione. Dumbledore stood up, beaming. "Welcome, Hogwarts, to another reading of the fabulous chronicles of 'Dudley Dursley's Sassy Gay Friend.' Before we begin what will surely be an illuminating reading of chapter two, I have a few announcements to make.

"Firstly, for those who enjoy reading strange stories in group settings, a respectable Muggle soap salesman by the name of Tyler Durden will be reading from the incredibly famous memoir _My Immortal. _Mr. Durden promises that it makes a fabulous sleeping aid for any unusual foster children unexpectedly added to one's family that just will not go to sleep. He also cautions you to not talk about Fight Club." **(A/N: reference to one of my fics "Bedtime Story: Tyler Durden Reads My Immortal," in which Tyler Durden of Fight Club reads My Immortal to an infant Harry Potter. Read it, you stupid bitch. I promise you'll love it!) **

"Fight Club?" asked Harry. "This Tyler Durden belongs to a Fight Club?" He lowered his voice so only Ron and Hermione could hear him. "Hey, maybe we can have him help teach us defense… we can call our secret club Durden's Army. Just a thought… feel free to give your opinions on tracking him down and sneaking him into Hogwarts to improve our self-defense education and add more entertainment and depth to the story… of our lives."

Before either of them could respond, Dumbledore continued the announcements.

"Secondly, if there are any artists out there," Dumbledore's twinkly-eyed gaze landed on Dean Thomas, "I would deeply appreciate pictures chronicling the events of 'Dudley Dursley's Sassy Gay Friend' and another excellent work of fiction entitled 'Mischief, Mayhem, Magic' if you can find the time and talent." **(*Cough*Fanart!*Cough* Anybody know where I could submit a story, and someone else could draw the fanart?) **

"Why on Earth do you need students' drawings of events that never even happened?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Why, to decorate my office, of course!" said Dumbledore. "It's looking mighty bleak in there with only pictures of snoozing dead guys covering the walls! Well, that's the end of my blatant advertising. Now, it's time to give the floor to Professor Umbridge."

Umbridge bounced to her feet like a large pink beach ball, tome in her hands. Crossing her fingers for something which would incriminate Harry Potter, she dove right in to chapter two of the gripping tale.

"**Dudley's favorite things about the cupboard under the stairs in which his cousin resided was the fact that, along with giving it a 'Queer Eye for the Straight Guy…'" **

"What's that?" asked most of the magically-raised students in the Hall.

"…**(a show Harry occasionally made Dudley watch)…" **

"Oh, that clears it up," most of the students, who had never heard of a television in their lives, said sarcastically.

"I've never heard of a show that you had to _make _Dudley watch," Harry commented.

"…**style makeover, he also somehow managed to put in an indoor pool that was several times larger than his cupboard should be. Dudley would keep a pair of swim trunks in Harry's somehow voluminous cupboard. Then, sometime throughout the day when he was sure that his parents wouldn't be looking for him, he would slip in Harry's cupboard and swim a couple laps around the pool…" **

"Keeping his mouth open the whole time, hoping to catch bits of plankton that Harry had convinced him lived in the pool," said George hopefully.

However, that wasn't the direction the story decided to take, and Umbridge continued reading with:

"**If Harry was being punished and was 'locked' in his cupboard for a period of time, Dudley would also bring food. For all his smarts and sense of style, Harry would forget to eat if left to his own devices." **

"They got that part of the story right, at least," said Ginny, sounding exactly like her mother.

"**Then, far from being punished from whatever it was his aunt and uncle were angry with him about, Harry spent hours having fun with his cousin, splashing and swimming in his luxurious indoor pool. Of course, this was not always the case. There was a time when Dudley was content to plant his bottom on the sofa and veg out in front of the telly all day." **

"Yes. It's called the present. Enjoy your stay, Dr. Who," said Hermione sardonically.

"**However, all that changed one fateful day over summer vacation when Dudley was nine and Harry was eight." **

"No it didn't," Harry pointed out unnecessarily.

"**Dudley was just settling in for an all-day Simpsons marathon on the telly in the living room, since the television in his own room had suffered a nasty foot-related incident when Dudley's favorite program had been canceled." **

"A foot-related incident?" asked Cho, puzzled. "Does that mean the television ran away?"

"It probably wished it could," said Harry. "Naw, Dudley kicked it. It's a nasty way to go, but it faced death in the hope of escaping Dudley forever, so it wasn't a total tragedy."

Harry broke off as Cho's eyes filled with tears.

"I didn't mean…" he began, not knowing what to say. Cho's best friend, Marietta, glared at him as she put an arm around Cho's shoulders.

Not caring about the emotional drama unfolding in front of her, Umbridge plowed on.

"**Dudley now knew that this was a network decision and not the fault of that particular television set. It had been quite a nasty shock to realize that the program would not play again no matter which television he tried to watch it on. Worse, he had destroyed the TV in his room for nothing. But, the damage had been done, and he was stuck watching the television in the living room until his dad could buy him a new one from the electronics store. Still, no use crying over spilled milk when his parents had, metaphorically speaking, already promised him a bigger glass with _chocolate_ milk." **

Pansy Parkinson's unexpectedly sharp mind made the connection between the still-sobbing Cho and the story. She came to the conclusion that what Cho needed was a bigger glass of chocolate milk to replace the milk that had been spilled, if you know what she means. The upshot of it all was a recommendation that Cho get together with a big black guy STAT. For her intellectual accomplishments, she earned a roar of laughter from Malfoy and a month's detention with Professor Flitwick.

"**Dudley had his bag of crisps, his cookies, a tasty beverage, and his feet on the coffee table in front of him. He had the remote control in his hand and his eyes on the screen, watching Homer's donut-driven antics. He was totally focused on the television screen when he heard a familiar voice shrieking into his left ear." **

"His mother?" asked Professor Sprout, who still hadn't given up hope that Petunia Dursley couldn't be _that _clueless.

"'**As much as I consider the tangled, complicated, and totally offscreen steamy love affair going on between Smithers and Mr. Burns to be the greatest romance never told, I feel I must ask you: What, what, WHAT are you doing?'" **

"That's definitely Potter's voice," said Malfoy.

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Harry, but he had a sinking feeling that Draco was right.

"**His cousin Harry Potter stood beside the sofa, but jumped over the arm to plop down next to Dudley." **

"Knew it," gloated Malfoy.

"'**What do you mean, _What are you doing_?'" Dudley asked languidly. 'I'm watching some TV. Now either shut up or get out.' **

"**So, you're going to sit on that couch all summer, turning yourself into stupid, fat Homer when you could make yourself into a stupid sexy Flanders?' Harry asked, his eyes wide with horror as he gazed at his cousin's ever-expanding stomach. **

"Who are these people?" asked Ron.

"They're… it'll take a long time to explain," said Harry. "I'm sure it's not important to the story, though."

"I kinda wanna meet that 'Stupid, sexy Flanders' guy," Ron continued. "He sounds awesome."

"**Dudley bristled. He was just a little plump. It was nothing to get all bent out of shape over, no pun intended." **

"Generally, when someone knows to write 'no pun intended' after a phrase, they did, indeed, intend to add a pun," a random student pointed out.

**"Because it's too hot outside, and I want to relax. Exercise is what gym class is for. And who would want to be Ned Flanders? Didn't that TV Tropes site you're always on about call him a butt-monkey?" **

"Butt monkey?" Michael Corner asked, puzzled.

"TV tropes?" asked Anthony Goldstein, confused.

"Outside?" asked Snape, flummoxed. "I've heard of that place…"

**"Well, some people like that kind of thing," said Harry with dignity. **

Malfoy snorted.

"**Over the past couple months or so, growing older and hanging out with his more worldly cousin more often had caused Dudley to learn a few facts of life. He suspected his cousin might be one of those people." **

"You think?" asked Draco Malfoy sarcastically.

**In fact, he suspected Harry could lead a parade of those people. **

"Yeah, probably," Malfoy quipped.

"And I'd make you ride on the float in a big, pink dress as you wave to the populace, Malfoy," Harry replied.

"That's nice, if you like that kind of thing," Luna said vaguely.

"**Harry could write, choreograph, and direct a big gay musical about those people, then throw a hissy fit of epic proportions because he couldn't call his play "The Big, Gay Musical," because the title was already taken." **

"Tut, tut, that could explain Mr. Potter's problems with his temper," Umbridge said. "He's just upset that he couldn't produce a musical called 'The Big, Gay Musical.'"

"And you're a bitch because you went to see 'The Big Gay Musical,' but found out that all it had was scantily-clad _guys. _So, you failed to have your annual orgasm, and now you feel the need to take it out on everyone else."

Umbridge hurriedly continued:

"**He would scream on and on about how that movie could NOT be as awesome as his play. He would lock HIMSELF in his cupboard as he screamed and sobbed into one of his throw pillows, something he hadn't done since 'Dreamgirls' was denied an Oscar nomination for Best Picture.'" **

"When was that?" asked Susan Bones.

"Oh, that was many years ago," said a Seventh-Year who had the misfortune of having the first name Sweeney. Though, he was considering changing it to something more respectable. Like Benjamin. Yeah, Benjamin Barker. That would work. "I doubt if anyone would know."

"**After a while, Dudley would cautiously knock on the door, the DVD of 'The Big Gay Musical' in one hand, a plateful of sausages in the other. Dudley would somehow convince Harry to put the disc into his mysteriously-acquired DVD player and at least give the film a chance. It sounded like the sort of thing he'd love. At first, Harry would refuse, but Dudley would hold the plate of sausages for ransom so that Harry had no choice but to give in. And so, with a dramatic sigh, Harry would plop down next to Dudley on the luxurious king-sized bed that had been an army cot when Aunt Petunia had given it to him. He would then pout as the movie played across the TV screen. His eyes would widen. He would eat a few sausages. Pretty soon, he would be completely enthralled, singing and dancing along, while the plate of sausages that he had been forced into watching this movie for lay forgotten. And Dudley would finish off the plate before they got cold, happy that his cousin was back to normal, or as close to normal as he ever got."**

"**Of course, this was all hypothetical." **

"Wait, so none of that stuff actually happened, according to a story which most of us agree is not true," said Ron. "Does that mean that the stuff in the last two paragraphs actually _did _happen in real life?"

Before the school could properly ponder the paradox the pupil presented, Umbridge continued reading the story before an outbreak of rational thinking could take place. She could already see some of the children putting on their thinking caps.

**In real life, Harry had watched the Big Gay Musical approximately 525,600 times in the week since he had purchased the DVD." **

Everybody turned in their seats to stare at Harry. Draco Malfoy led the Slytherins in a rousing round of laughter. Harry glared. "Not a true story," he reminded everybody.

"**One may wonder how Harry had time for this when there were only so many hours in the week and the movie was about 90 minutes long…" **

"See, it's impossible," Harry pointed out. "Can't be done."

"**Well, Harry James Potter MADE time," **Umbridge continued as if there had been no interruption.

"**Also, after he watched the movie straight through the first ten times, he started watching only the bit at the beginning, when the scantily clad angels tap dance, then rewinding to watch that part again. Harry insisted that this counted as him 'watching the movie,' and added a tally mark to a piece of paper every time he did this. By the end of the week, he had 525,600 tally marks, had the angels' dance routine down-pat, and could tell people (Dudley)…" **

"Wait, so 'Dudley' counts as 'people?'" Ernie MacMillan asked, confused. "I thought there was only one Dudley Dursley in this story."

"It could be because Dudley is so horrible that he repels other people," mused Lisa Turpin of Ravenclaw. "So, you can assume that if you want to tell a room full of people something, and Dudley is in the room, he'll be the only one who will hear you, since nobody in their right mind would willingly stay in the same room as Dudley Dursley."

"Or, you could just take a less original route and claim that Dudley is so fat that he counts as six or seven people," pointed out Justin Finch-Fletchly.

"Or maybe," suggested Malfoy, smirking. "that fatso Dudley is the _only _friend of Potter's in the Muggle world. You sure know how to pick 'em, Potter!"

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Harry automatically.

"…**that he had seen the Big, Gay Musical 525,600 times in one week. He and Dudley were currently at odds over the validity of this claim." **

"I don't think watching the first ten minutes of a ninety-minute movie really counts as 'watching the movie,'" said Hermione.

"It could," said Harry. "If the movie was called 'The Big Gay Musical.' I mean, it's probably not going to get any gayer than a bunch of scantily clad men dressed up as angels and tap-dancing."

"But, it could be bigger," Hermione pointed out.

"Yes, yes, it could be," sighed Harry, as he rested his chin in his hands and became lost in a fantasy.

**"Well," said Dudley, realizing he had let his mind wander into some form of the Camp Gay CloudCuckooland that his cousin seemed to inhabit, "Even gay guys don't want it ALL the time. And straight guys don't want it at all!"**

**"Some people like to experiment..." Harry began. **

"Experiment with what?" Dennis Creevey asked, puzzled.

"Chicken butts, five knuts a cup," Fred said promptly.

"Get it before the price goes up," George added.

"Quiet down, you three," snapped Professor McGonagall, interrupting Dennis's attempt to give the twins five knuts in order to see the "chicken butts" that "some people" liked to "experiment" with.

**"Well, I don't! I like to watch the telly and eat my snacks in peace."**

"**Harry pouted at the collection of junk food in front of his cousin. Then, he brightened up. 'Omigod! You're drinking MiO!' he squealed." **

The Great Hall was soon abuzz with groups of people bitching about the blatant product-placement.

"Shut it!" screamed Umbridge. Surprisingly, the Great Hall quieted down fairly quickly, if only out of curiosity for what happened next in the story.

**"Yes," snapped Dudley. "And I don't need a commercial from you. The only commercials I'll be listening to will be coming from that big, black box," Dudley said, gesturing towards the TV.**

**"I wasn't going to do a commercial," said Harry. "I was going to show you something."**

**Dudley sighed deeply. He had seen this episode already, and his cousin would give him no peace until he acquiesced. So, he allowed himself to be pulled along by the arm to Harry's cupboard while Nelson Muntz "Haw-haw"-ed in the background.**

**Harry opened his cupboard door with a flourish, revealing a new addition, a huge indoor pool that was bigger than the entire house but somehow managed to fit comfortably in Harry's tiny cupboard. Dudley stared in shock, "How the Hell did you get that thing in here?" he asked.**

"'**Even if I knew, I couldn't tell you,' said Harry. 'A magician never reveals his secret. Now how would you like to turn into a stupid, sexy Flanders without sweating like Chief Wiggum in a heat wave?'" **

"Dude, that's the second time the author mentioned this 'Stupid, Sexy Flanders' character," said Ron. "I wanna meet him!"

**While Dudley's parents would simply balk at the mention of magic, Dudley frowned and said, "Is this some sort of trick to make me lose weight? Why do you care so much about how I look?"**

"'**Aw, sweetie,' said Harry. "'You're my cousin, and I'll always love you…'" **

"Gag," said Harry.

"'…**no matter how you look.'" **

"He has calves only a mother cow could love," Harry informed the Great Hall, much to the Weasleys' amusement.

**I've grown to tolerate your looks and fashion sense the same way you've grown to tolerate my sparkly orange scarf."**

"'**Then why is this such a big deal to you?' Dudley asked." **

"Yeah, Potter," said Malfoy snidely. "Why _are _you making such a big deal out of this? Don't you know that by leaving your cousin alone to his junk food and sedentary lifestyle would hasten his death?"

"We aren't all out to kill as many Muggles as we can, Malfoy," Harry snapped. Honestly, didn't any of the teachers _notice _the evil evilness that oozed from every pore of Malfoy's evil face? Or at least hear some of the shit that flew out of his mouth? Harry just knew that one day, Malfoy would join the Death Eaters, and it would be his job, and his alone to obsessively stalk Malfoy to find out where the Slytherin was at all times, what he was doing, all of the blond boy's deepest, darkest secrets. You know, _secret_ secrets that you wouldn't even tell your bestest guy friend. Like what kind of conditioner did he use? Despite the liberal amounts of hairspray, Malfoy's hair always looked so soft… Harry shook his head to clear away the unwelcome thoughts.

"I wouldn't go for _quantity, _Potter," Malfoy said, rolling his eyes. "I would do it for job satisfaction. If you hate those Muggles you live with so much, why do you care if one of them is making unhealthy lifestyle choices when you don't even attempt stop Weasley- your supposed _best friend- _from pigging out at every meal?"

It actually would have been an intelligent question, even if it was asked in a roundabout kind of way, were it not for one tiny flaw. "Malfoy," said Harry slowly, as if speaking to a small child. "None. Of. This. Ever. Actually. Happened. Get that through your thick, overly-greased, pointy skull. Get one of your bodyguards to pound it in for you if the idea still can't penetrate that troll-scalp helmet you call hair."

Malfoy looked at Harry with an expression that was somewhere between a smirk and a sneer. "Considering the subject matter of the story, Potter, I wouldn't talk about large males pounding things into some other guy. It sets a precedent you may regret… or perhaps you won't."

"I would just steer away from the topic of mating altogether if I were you, Malfoy, considering your future… _ahem… _life partner will be the hermaphroditic lovechild of your mother and Professor Umbridge over there."

Umbridge's shriek of "A month's detention, Potter, and fifty points from Gryffindor!" rang out amongst the barely-stifled laughter coming from three tables in the Great Hall.

Harry wasn't in the mood to care, though. It was as if every bitter and resentful thought that he had internalizing was ready to pop out in a flood of snark, sarcasm, and NC-17-rated nastiness. Anyone who had an inkling of what it was like to be Harry Potter at this point in his life should consider themselves warned. **(A/N: if not, I'm just gonna warn you that Harry says some pretty nasty things in these next three paragraphs.) **

"You won't even wait until it's an adult to start trying to do the nasty. You'll push the Malfoy prerogative as soon as it's out of Umbridge's vagina- yes, the spawn will be growing in Umbridge's fetid womb. When I consider the trainwrecked uterus that supplied the much more intelligent fetus version of yourself with your prenatal cocktail of goblin sperm and elf-made wine, I am forced to choose between the lesser of the two evils.

"Hopefully, we can avoid another repeat of the disaster that was your birth, wherein a small, white-haired, deformed gremlin shot out of your mother's cum-dumpster, and, unfortunately for all involved, took its first breath.

"While Umbridge may not be mothering material and be way, way, way past childbearing age, we can at least take a small amount of comfort in the fact that she's way too horrible a teacher- and way too ugly- for anyone to argue against the necessity of the Victorian practice of confining women to their homes for the duration of their pregnancy. Along with getting that toad out of our sight for a good nine months, we can avoid the accident that occurred during your conception, when some Knockturn Alley prostitute's strap-on dildo managed, through a series of romantic intrigues that would make even Shakespeare blush, to get covered in Lucius Malfoy's pathetic sperm, and then later become lodged in the warm, wet, and welcoming vagina of Narcissa Black, necessitating what the Muggles call a 'Shotgun Wedding.'"

Apparently, the Great Hall felt that shocked silence was in fashion this season.

"Mr. Potter," said Professor McGonagall through clenched teeth. "You will come with me to my office immediately where we will discuss your behavior this past year _very_ thoroughly."

Harry got up and stomped towards the exit. She wanted to discuss _his _behavior. What about everyone else's behavior? Malfoy just said that he should kill his Muggle relatives for God's sake! If that wasn't a sign of darkness, he didn't know what was. Or how about the Ministry's behavior, calling him a liar and sending Umbridge in to spy on Dumbledore and bend Hogwarts to her tyrannical will? Or how about Dumbledore, ignoring him and expecting him to…"

"I'm afraid you can't leave just yet, Professor McGonagall," said Umbridge in her sickly sweet voice.

"With all due respect, Dolores," McGonagall began, her tone of voice giving away the miniscule amount of respect she thought Umbridge was due, "It is my duty as Potter's Head of House to remove him from _unnecessary_ extracurricular activities and enforce discipline when it is needed."

"Really, Minerva? If that's the case, why not take him off his House Quidditch team?"

"Potter has never misbehaved at a Quidditch-related function. The misbehavior occurred at this reading, and, believe you me, it _will _be addressed."

"Oh, I have no doubt about that, Minerva," said Umbridge sweetly. "However, the magic coming from this mysterious tome effectively prevents anyone from leaving the room until the reader- that is to say, me- is finished reading what the book wants read. I'm afraid you're stuck here until the chapter's over."

"Fine!" said McGonagall angrily. "But mark my words, Potter, you and I will have a nice, long chat in my office immediately after this pointless tale of the silly antics of two mediocre dunces!"

Umbridge ignored the insult, possibly because she couldn't understand it or think of a sufficiently awesome comeback, and continued to read.

"'**It's just, I know it can't be much fun spending the day watching TV, playing video games, and eating junk food,' Harry explained." **

"Well, for me it wouldn't be," said Harry. "But Dudley would enjoy that."

"'**That's the kind of thing I'd do when I was grounded. Granted, they were different types of movies...'" **

"Oooohhh," said the older students in the hall, while the younger ones simply looked puzzled.

"'**but all the same, the telly wasn't as much fun after I discovered my love for fashion and interior decorating. It was like a whole new wonderful world. I just want to give you the same opportunity to find happiness.'"**

"'**So instead of a commercial, you're doing a public service announcement?' Dudley joked." **

"Umm… first of all, since when does Dudley know how to tell a joke? I remember when he was nine and tried to tell a knock-knock joke. In what my aunt and uncle have affectionately termed 'The Noodle Incident,' Dudley managed to screw up the telling of the joke to the point where he wound up filling the shed out back with pre-chewed bubblegum, set up a complex hoax concerning alien abductions which spread fear and panic throughout the determinedly normal neighborhood of Privet Drive, and permanently changed the migratory patterns of seagulls living in a two-hundred mile radius." The specific series of events, along with the involvement of linguini, was still a mystery to Harry. The important thing was that the incident was found by a jury of Dudley's peers to not be a deliberate act of terrorism, and status quo having been restored, peace descended once again upon Number Four Privet Drive. The inhabitants never spoke of it again.

"And, second of all," Harry continued. "If I were to make a public service announcement, it would definitely be about something other than the dangers of childhood obesity. It will probably be about… oh I dunno… VOLDEMORT BEING BACK!"

Cue le gasp from most of the Great Hall. Many miles away, Fleur Delacour nodded approvingly at the Frenchy French Frenchness of it all, and then went off to do French things with Bill.

"Detention, Mr. Potter," said Umbridge, without missing a beat.

"Don't worry, Harry," said Colin encouragingly. "Pretty soon, the Ministry will be begging you to make public service announcements about stuff! Then they'll see that your presence, the aura present in your stalwart frame, is all that is needed to give people a morale boost and reassure them that the government is keeping them safe and happy!"

"Thanks, Colin," said Harry glumly. Sure, it was a very far-fetched scenario, but Harry was in the mood to appreciate encouragement anywhere he could get it.

**"This isn't a public service announcement," said Harry. "I'm not a doctor, a nurse, or Jenny Craig. I'm just a boy telling his cousin and, whether you like it or not, his best friend, to get in that pool and have a blast."**

"'**Your best friend? Really?' Dudley asked." **

"Hell to the no!" Harry yelled.

"Mr. Potter!" Professor McGonagall snapped. "A further thirty points from Gryffindor and detention tonight with Mr. Filch!"

"**He realized that he probably shouldn't have been surprised." **

Harry banged his head against the table. On an unrelated note, his scar began to hurt. Ouch.

"**While Harry would socialize with the other kids at school, mainly girls, as he had more in common with the girls in his class than the boys in his class, Dudley had never seen Harry get very close to any of them. Sure, he seemed to like most of them, and the more tolerant children in the class returned his feelings, knowing that Potter was a jolly good chap. But, he didn't share his secrets with them the way he shared them with Dudley or spend hours bickering back and forth with any of them the way he did with his cousin."**

"'**Yeah,' said Harry. 'I like you best.'" **

Harry gagged, despite the fact that he now had sufficient proof to refute Malfoy's earlier claim that the Harry Potter in this story had no friends except Dudley. Of course, the Harry Potter in this story was claiming to be _best friends _with Dudley, so that wasn't much better.

"'**That's... that's...' Dudley didn't know what to say." **It was a mark of how tightly the whole school was caught up in the emotional moment that nobody made any cracks about Dudley being too thick to string two words together, so his not knowing what to say probably wasn't an unusual occurrence.

"**He was so surprised, pleased, and flattered." **

"Oh, sure, he's not stupid. He's just a _sensitive _boy who enjoys more refined pursuits," said Harry sarcastically, who had heard Aunt Petunia give this speech about her son dozens of times.

"Refined pursuits?" asked Ginny, puzzled.

"Yeah," Harry sighed, rolling his eyes. "Suddenly playing with yourself is a _refined pursuit…_"

"'**Awww... c'mere, you stupid bitch.' And Harry pulled his cousin into a hug." **There were several _awww'_s from the girls in the Hall. Harry could swear he saw even Pansy Parkinson's pug-like face sporting a soppy expression.

"**Harry subscribed to a theory that all good hugs lasted at least seven seconds." **Draco Malfoy got his groove back and began to chortle at Harry's expense.

**However, this hug barely lasted two seconds before Harry, with surprising strength…" **

"Pulled his face out from in between his cousin's sweaty man-boobs…" said Fred.

"Kung-Fu-chopped Dudley's pasty, blubbery arms so that the larger boy shrieked in pain and released Harry's tiny frame!" George added.

"Finally able to breathe, Harry then launched the final lethal blow and…" Fred began.

"…**pushed Dudley into the pool," **Umbridge finished, her voice losing some of its breathy, high-pitched girlishness and beginning to take on Professor McGonagall's sharp tones.

"That scene started out so exciting," said Fred.

"Had me on the edge of my seat," George confirmed.

"Then it had to end on that anticlimactic note," moaned Fred.

"They wasted a perfectly good plot," said George, shaking his head.

"Also… scary mental images… Dudley splashing around like a drowning whale wearing nothing but a pair of tiny swim trunks."

"Actually, the story doesn't say anything about the swim trunks being tiny," Dumbledore pointed out mildly.

"We know," George assured the Headmaster. "We just assumed they would be tiny because Dudley's massive frame would make everything else look tiny by comparison."

"How does that make you feel?" Luna asked curiously.

"How does… what?" asked Fred.

"Dudley's tendency to make everything around him look tiny by comparison. How does this make you feel? Would you say that _you _feel tiny when you are around him?"

"Well, not tiny, exactly…" began George.

"I myself would like to explore," Pansy began, imitating Luna's serene tone, which was something of an improvement over her usual loud shrieking, "why your minds suddenly jumped to the image of Dudley Dursley in such a helpless position while being so inadequately clothed. Is this more of the Gryffindor rescue complex I've heard so much about, or is there something deeper at stake?"

The twins fell silent, the faintest of red dusting their freckled cheeks.

The stuck-up Slytherin girl and the odd Ravenclaw shared a smile across the Hall. This was the first time they had ever interacted, and the resulting conversation was undeniably awesome. Although Pansy at this point in time thought the Ravenclaw's birth name was actually "Loony Lovegood" and Luna believed the Slytherin girl who said such odd things was named "Pumpkin Puffeskin," they could clearly see that they made a good match. They should get together sometime and share in the joys of alliteration.

"We better keep an eye on those two, George," said Fred _sotto voice. _

George nodded in agreement.

"**Harry jumped in after his cousin and spent the rest of the afternoon having a fierce dunking match, the TV, the junk food, and even the MiO forgotten." **

"Are we going to hear about MiO every time we have one of these readings?" Zacharias Smith wondered aloud.

He received no answer because nobody knew who the Hell he was talking to. Also, if you insist on having a line for one of these snarks, you should make sure it's a _funny _line, doggone it.

"Mr. Smith," Umbridge began in a tone that could cut ice. "The author of this fine text wishes for me to pass on the message that unless you are Tyler Durden from _Fight Club _or Charlie Brown from _A Charlie Brown Christmas, _bemoaning the materialistic state of our culture does not make you seem cool or artistic. Now, this worked for Tyler Durden because he was literally made of awesome from the moment he was imagined to the moment he met his tragic and undeserved end. And it worked for Charlie Brown because he was a lovable loser that we can all relate to. Everyone else just sounds like a pretentious tool. Like _'Oh, look at me! I'm thirty-seven years old and still live with my parents on the family estate! I've never held a job in my life, so I don't need to think about money_. _Aren't I so totally zen? Don't you just admire me so much? __**I **__certainly don't need to whore myself out to a beverage corporation in order to get paid for my acting abilities! A member of my immediate family made it big in the movie business, so I don't to work hard or even have a modicum of actual talent in order to become rich and famous! I just flash my bon-bons and say something stupid and all of a sudden, cameras all over the country are following my every move! Isn't that just so totally awesome? I'm just so totally zen on the internet! Don't you find silly ways that amateur thespians sneak commercials into their productions so dreadfully __plebian?__'_" Everybody in the Hall stared silently at Umbridge for a long time. That rant had been so random that even Snape could not think of an appropriate snark.

Umbridge seemed to recover as she continued, in her most official Ministry-Decree-Declaring-voice, "The opinions expressed in the previous rant are not exactly those expressed by the reader or the questionably competent governmental organization employing the reader to… well… read. The author would like to point out that, in order to promote gender equality, the bon-bons can refer to either boobies or balls, take your pick."

Umbridge and the other denizens of Hogwarts stared at each other for a long time. Clearing her throat with a _"Hem-hem" _that somehow managed to sound awkward, Umbridge opened her mouth to continue reading.

Or at least she tried to. "**Balls**!" Harry screamed out suddenly. He clapped a hand to his mouth and blushed as everyone's head swiveled around to look at him. He had no control over what had just come out of his mouth, and he was never going to live this down. Ron was looking at him like he was crazy, McGonagall looked as if she just swallowed a lemon, Dumbledore looked… well, actually, Dumbledore looked about the same as usual with his twinkling eyes and lemon-drop sucking lips just suck, suck, sucking away.

Ron had no idea what was going on, but he knew it was his duty as the best friend to keep this incident from preventing Harry from ever getting laid again. He remembered when he was four and performed accidental magic for the first time. Dad had brought home a 3-pack of Muggle tennis balls from work, claiming that they were the "Greatest invention since the rubber duck." Bill and Charlie immediately grabbed one and began tossing it to each other. The twins instantly claimed the other two and immediately became engaged in their own private game that not even they knew the rules of. This meant that there were no tennis balls left for Ron, Ginny, or Percy. Ginny and Percy really didn't care, but Ron was curious about the yellow bouncy balls. However, none of his older brothers would share with him. So, he sat in the corner, pouting.

Suddenly, he felt something hit his head. Frowning, he looked up and didn't see anything. He looked down, and at his feet was a brand new tennis ball. Beaming, he bounced up, hugging his new toy to his chest before one of his older brothers could reclaim the toy. Then, he saw another tennis ball come down. And another. And another. Before too long, the Burrow's living room fell victim to a storm of tennis balls.

Mum had screamed over the mess that afternoon and sent them all outside, despite the children's complaints about heat and mosquitoes so that she could tidy up undisturbed. However, by that evening, once things were back in order and dinner managed to get on the table without mishap, Molly Weasley was gushing over her youngest son's first burst of magic.

Back in the present, fifteen year-old Ron closed his eyes and concentrated as hard as he could, concentrating on how he felt that day eleven years ago, when he desperately wanted to play with tennis balls. Oh, how he wanted a whole bunch of tennis balls all to himself!

Suddenly, from the sky came a storm of tennis balls. Ron tried to look as shocked as everybody else, but instead of a look of surprise crossing his freckled features, Ron bore the expression of a constipated wiener dog, however such an expression would look.

However, nobody noticed Ron's expression, as they were all gazing up at the sky, which meant that a great many people got hit right in the face with a Muggle tennis ball. Taking this as a good an opportunity as any to get out of listening to a teacher drone on about whatever it is teachers like to talk about, Vincent Crabbe suddenly screamed, "The end of the world is upon us! Run for your lives!" and pulled his friend Gregory Goyle along by the arm. The two of them sprinted, screaming, from the Great Hall.

In all the commotion, Umbridge forgot that she technically had grounds to expel the two dunderheads. She forgot to wonder about how the seemingly moronic Slytherins had managed to get past the magic of the book that should have kept them in the Hall until she was done reading. She didn't even notice two of her students had left the room as she found herself being pelted by tennis balls from the ceiling and from mysterious assailants from all the tables in the Great Hall. Snape in particular had _deadly _aim.

"Look!" exclaimed Ron. "Harry totally saw the rain of tennis balls coming! That's why he suddenly screamed 'Balls!' He was trying to warn us! It's not like he had any other reason to suddenly scream the word 'Balls!' in the middle of a pointless meeting!"

"No shit, Sherlock," yelled Malfoy from over at the Slytherin table while throwing a ball at Ron's head as hard as he could. Ron used his awesome keeper skills and caught it, grinning broadly.

"**Any sassy gay observer would agree, watching Harry climb on top of Dudley's shoulders singing, '**_**Five-hundred, twenty-five thousand, six-hundred minutes! Five-hundred, twenty-five thousand, six-hundred moments so dear!**_**'" **Umbridge was forced by the book's strange magic to deliver the line in a sing-song voice. Harry found her singing voice to be not only off-key, but somehow more annoying than her speaking voice.

"_Five-hundred, twenty-five thousand, six-hundred minutes! How do you measure, measure a year_?" Dumbledore joined in._His _singing voice was much better, Harry noted. Along with being perfectly on key, Harry could practically feel the emotion dripping off the words. That line was coming from a man who had seen many years and experienced great joy and sorrow as each year passed.

"_In daylights!" _Professor Sprout found herself singing.

"_In sunsets!" _Madam Pomfrey added her own voice to the choir.

Snape tired to fight it, he really did. However nothing could have prevented him from jumping out of his seat and standing before the entire Hall like a giant bat ready to take flight and singing in a surprisingly pleasant baritone voice _"In midnights, in cups of coffee. In inches, in miles, in laughter and strife!" _

Everybody at the Head Table joined in, singing _"In five-hundred, twenty-five-thousand, six-hundred minutes! How do you measure a year in the life?" _

The students, who, up until this moment were gazing in wonder at the teachers perform an impromptu musical number from one of the greatest Broadway shows of all time, found themselves compelled by an irresistible force to stand up and sing loud and proud:

"_How about lo-o-o-o-ve?" _Inspired, they repeated, _"How about lo-o-o-o-ve?"_ Third time's the charm: _"How about lo-o-o-o-ve?" _Time to drive the point home: _"Measure in love!" _In case there were people who were, for some reason, still confused about why a group of students had suddenly taken to singing a song from a Muggle musical/rock opera that most of them had never heard of, the students added, _"Seasons of love!"_

"Excellent answer," said Dumbledore cheerfully, now back to his normal speaking voice. "Well done, all!" And he swept out of the Hall, somehow managing to make his escape against the book's wishes. Umbridge was too busy reading the last line of the chapter to mark the Headmaster's sudden departure.

"…**as Dudley grabbed Harry by the ankles and attempted to plunge him face first in the water, that they were both stupid bitches." **

"I think we're all stupid bitches," said Harry cheerfully. All eyes transferred from Umbridge to him. Harry blushed. What was going on with him today?

**A/N: Another chapter done! I hope you enjoyed it. Check out my other stories! Please review! Also, feel free to give your opinions on sneaking Tyler Durden from Fight Club in to help with the D.A. The story won't have Harry/Tyler slash, but it will be interesting. But, I won't do it if readers think it's a bad idea.  
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